


you have stardust in your veins (that’s why sometimes it hurts to breathe)

by marauderas



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Post-War, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24273097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauderas/pseuds/marauderas
Summary: Adora kisses Catra the second time.It’s cautious and tender and laced with something Catra doesn’t take notice of until the taste of salt is on her lips as well.or, the hours after the final battle
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 629





	you have stardust in your veins (that’s why sometimes it hurts to breathe)

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what this is i just know i haven't been the same since may 15th.

Adora kisses Catra the second time.

It’s a unanimous decision—barely a decision, actually—to withdraw to the first place Adora called home after leaving the Horde. When your world has been shattered over and over for so long and then knocked back into life at the very last second, it’s sheer instinct to grab onto whatever normalcy you knew before any of it happened.

It makes sense that people would want to go home, Catra thinks to herself, and Melog bunts his head against her leg until she runs an idle hand down his back. 

Still, they all gather in the gardens of Bright Moon before going their separate ways. Spinnerella and Netossa make a quick exit, their almost loss too fresh for them to want to be around anyone else at the moment. 

(Adora doesn’t take her eyes off them until they’re out of sight.

Catra knows this, because, well. She doesn’t take her eyes off Adora.)

Without ever disclosing how she even knew to find them there, Madame Razz leaves as well, not without squeezing Adora’s cheeks and ordering Swift Wind to drop by three days from now for their weekly apple picking date.

Adora glares at her steed. “ _You’re_ invited and I’m not?”

“You just haven’t unlocked that friendship level yet,” Swift Wind says, smug in a way that is way too similar to hers to be overlooked.

She crosses her arms, cuts her gaze to the side in protest, and Swift Wind nudges her a little too hard, pushing her off balance before dashing across the garden as Adora sprints after him. Her hair and jacket have come undone when she stops next to Catra and Bow to catch her breath, palms on her knees and laughter bubbling out of her.

“A little help?” Adora asks between sharp exhales.

Catra and Bow glance at each other, then back to her. “What’s in it for us?” he wants to know.

“My eternal gratitude?” 

They both give a shrug. “Nah.”

“Okay, _alright_. Bow, I’ll show you pictures of Catra from the Horde.” Catra gasps in utter betrayal, and a smirk spreads across Adora’s entire face. “There’s a ponytail.”

“Wh—” Catra tries, but Bow is already bolting after Swift Wind with an obnoxiously victorious Adora running by his side.

George and Lance pace back and forth, talking hurriedly about all the knowledge that is about to be added to their research, about transcripts and artifacts and the countless months (or _years_! even) of work ahead of them. They pull four kids into a smothering hug before leaving hand in hand and Bow simply smiles at his friends, powerless against his dads’ ambitions.

One by one, they all start to go home.

Inevitably, both Adora and Glimmer are pulled into numerous discussions about the steps to be taken next—everything from the rebuilding of towns to scanning Etheria for potential sources of dark magic—which eventually leads to all of them standing engrossed in an unofficial meeting about what to do with the kingdom that until very recently served as the headquarters for the Horde.

“What about Catra?” Adora asks the princesses.

Saucer-eyed, Catra gives the group a sweeping look. “You want me to lead a recon to the Fright Zone?”

“ _I_ certainly don’t,” Mermista grits out.

"Look, I know it's not ideal for you, but she's a genius strategist."

"Wow, Sparkles," Catra drawls. "You're not so bad yourself."

To no one's surprise, Bow squeals at the interaction—right before a smiling Adora elbows him.

"Ow!" he buckles at the waist. "My _poor_ , exposed abdomen."

Glimmer shoots _all_ of them a look before resuming: “You and Scorpia know those grounds better than any of us, so you would be co-leading. Understood?”

“Uh,” Catra swallows and searches for Scorpia, whose eyes are already on her. There’s a small smile on her face. “Yes. Of course.”

“Good,” Adora says, which as much authority as she can muster. “It’s settled.”

After glaring from across the thinning crowd for what feels like an eternity, Mermista shortens the distance between them with Sea Hawk hot on her heels. She stops right in front of Catra, whose flight-or-fight response almost kicks in when Mermista towers over her a little too closely. Instead, Melog is the one whose pulsing mane shifts to red. Catra lays a soothing hand on his head. Some habits are hard to beat.

“I haven’t forgotten about the pain you caused my people,” Mermista says. “The pain you caused all of us.” She locks eyes with Catra now, features softening as Sea Hawk steps forward and closes his hand around hers. She lets out a loud groan, defeated. “Ugh. With _that_ being said…” she goes on, shooting daggers at Sea Hawk from the corner of her eye. “You’ve done good now, too. And I won’t forget about that either.”

They’re gone soon after, leaving nothing but the scent of sea water floating under everyone’s noses.

But not all princesses have homes to retreat to, she understands. Some of them had their homes taken, turned into one long fear-inducing nightmare. Stripped of their purpose, of their chance to belong.

She watches Entrapta tug at Hordak’s arm while telling him about all the tech that could be found among the ruins of the Fright Zone. Catra’s stomach clenches as several images of her time in the Horde flash in front of her. She shakes her head, scans the group and catches a glimpse of Adora's red jacket. Soon enough she’s able to feel the ground beneath her feet again.

“Let’s maybe keep an eye on those two?” Bow whispers to her, gesturing vaguely towards Entrapta and Hordak. “Mostly him.”

Catra nods, thoughts somewhere else. And, spurred by those same thoughts (and many more), she stands in front of Scorpia a moment later, head hung low.

“I…” She looks up, heart lodged in her throat. “I can come with you. To the Fright Zone, that is. Not only for recon, I mean if… if that’s where you’re going now, I… I will come with you.” She sways forward. “I’ll stay with you.”

Scorpia laughs, eyes kind and warm like they always have been. She rubs the back of her neck. “Kid won’t ever admit it, but I think she could use some company,” she explains, gesturing towards Frosta and Perfuma in the most indiscreet, endearing way. “We’re going to Plumeria to get everyone settled then to the Kingdom of Snows for a while.” Cheeks popping with color, she clears her throat. “Because, uh… well, you know I don’t mind the cold.” Then, features softening—if possible—even more: “But I could use some help rebuilding the kingdom. When the time comes.”

“I’ll be there,” Catra says in turn, stepping closer and wrapping careful arms around her. “I promise.”

Scorpia freezes, breath catching at the back of her throat, but a second later she’s melting into the hug, pincers closing around Catra’s frame. “I’m proud of you, Wildcat,” she says, pulling Catra into a—quite literally—breathtaking embrace. “See ya soon, yeah?”

Pulling away just the slightest, Catra beams up to her. “Yeah.”

It doesn’t take long until she’s gone, too, along with Frosta and Perfuma.

Glimmer— _Queen Glimmer_ —announces that Bright Moon will be open for all and any that wish to stay, effective immediately and until further notice. Micah and Castaspella, standing at her sides, turn to look at each other with eyes gleaming and chests swelling.

The Star Siblings shrug and say, “Warm meal _and_ a roof? Count me in,” to each other in tandem before heading inside.

Lonnie, Rogelio and Kyle linger a bit farther, along with the few cadets that haven’t gone back to the Fright Zone or taken off somewhere else. Bow, ever the most perceptive, generous spirit, personally asks them to stay the night, or as many nights as they need to. Lonnie is reluctant, looking frantically around the place as though assessing emergency exits, but Kyle is on board right away and therefore so is Rogelio. Overthrown, she runs a hand down her face, gaze landing fleetingly on Catra before Swift Wind offers to show them to their chambers.

And all of a sudden, it’s only the four of them left.

Catra breathes out.

(Unsurprisingly, Melog does, too, in a fairly louder, more dramatic fashion.)

Next to her, Adora stands in complete silence, brows knitting together as she trains her gaze on the ground. The wind picks up around them, and her red jacket flapping against her waist, blonde strands of hair obscuring the side of her face.

Carefully, Catra lays a hand on her arm, pulling her out of whatever thoughts were racing through her mind. She looks up at once, features soft and bright and rid of any creasing between her brows.

“Hey, Catra.”

“You alright?”

Wordlessly, Adora glances around the now almost empty gardens. Castas and Micah will be back from Mystacor in a couple of hours after setting up new protection spells and sealing the entrances just in case. There’s a twinge of urgency in the air, of surreal bliss, as though they all need to make sure this victory is real, that it’s tangible at last before letting down their guards entirely.

“I…” Adora starts. “There’s something.” They lock eyes, and Adora shuffles forward, knuckles brushing against Catra’s. She clears her throat. “Should we talk?”

Catra chuckles. “Probably.” A beat passes. “Now?”

“Soooo…” Glimmer chimes in from behind, and they whip around in impeccable synch. “Who wants to raid the kitchen?”

Bow materializes next to them, barely able to contain his excitement. “I DO!” he shouts, and Glimmer bursts into fond laughter. “Dessert first, _then_ dinner?”

“Oooh, I like that,” Swift Wind pipes in from the main doors, nodding vehemently. “I like that _a lot_.”

Instinctively, they all turn to Adora for a verdict, who in turn exchanges a silent look with Catra. She gives a seemingly nonchalant shrug in response, and Adora slips a hand into hers, fingers interlacing. Something flares up in Catra at once, heart rate picking up for no other reason than the fact that it keeps catching her off guard, the simplicity of it all.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Adora agrees.

“Sure, Sparkles,” Catra says with another shrug. “I could eat.”

Bow and Swift Wind race each other through the doors, and Glimmer groans to herself, yells, “Wh— _hello_ ? We have _guests_ to feed as well!” right before yanking at Adora’s arms in order to teleport all three of them to the kitchen.

Bright Moon and Etheria await, born anew.

But Adora wonders—

The door to Adora’s bedroom—their bedroom now, unspoken in the most exquisite, terrifying of ways—closes behind them a couple of hours later, after an evening full of firsts for a lot of people in the castle.

“I _swear_ she tries me again and I _will_ set Lonnie on fire,” Catra says through gritted teeth, wiping down her shirt with the heel of her hand.

“No, you won’t.”

“Fine. I won’t. But she’s on thin ice.”

“Sure, yeah. Thin ice.”

"I _mean_ it."

"Sure you do."

Catra stops in her tracks. “Adora? Are you even listen—”

“Shh.”

“Did you just _shush_ me?”

“I—just one second.”

Bow and Glimmer’s footsteps finally fade down the hall, and Adora surges forward and presses Catra against the wall, gentle but firm. She closes her eyes and the distance between them, lips ghosting over Catra’s. Breath hitching and heart pounding inside her chest, Catra closes her eyes, too.

And Adora— 

Adora kisses Catra the second time.

It’s cautious and tender and laced with something Catra doesn’t take notice of until the taste of salt is on her lips as well.

Almost as cautiously, Catra pulls away, hands dropping from Adora’s face to her shoulders.

“Adora…” she whispers, but even that is too jarring for the sudden silence settled around them, etched onto the corners of Bright Moon, across the entirety of Etheria.

There’s nothing but the low hum of magic coursing beneath the ground; nothing but eerie, rampant quiet in the aftermath of a war that took so much from them without even the hint of a warning.

Adora laughs, shakes her head. Brushes a finger under her eyes. “It’s nothing,” she says under Catra’s observant gaze. “Really.”

But Catra knows Adora—knows every version of her, now, even the ones she denied for so long—and therefore, Catra _knows_. She exchanges a glance with Melog who watches them with undivided attention from his spot by the window. Guarding, waiting; conditioned to always be alert amidst a war so ancient that it spanned entire galaxies and endless centuries. Melog tilts his head to the side in tandem with Catra’s when Adora refuses to elaborate, a trail of fresh tears burning down her cheeks instead.

“Adora,” she whispers again— _pleads_ with her.

She reaches for Catra’s hand, brings it to her lips to press a kiss on her knuckles, and, “Please,” Adora pleads in turn. “Please.”

“You’re sad.” It trips down Catra’s lips just as it dawns on her, voice stranded somewhere between a statement and a question. She swallows, tries to ignore the way the pit of her stomach has turned into ice. “Hey—”

“It’s nothing,” Adora croaks out, shaking her head again. Catra waits. “It’s nothing, just…”

“Just what?” Catra pushes softly. “You can tell me. You know that, right? You can tell me anything.”

(There’s so much they both wish they had said sooner, so much that tugs at their heartstrings still. But the world has turned on its axis now, and she doesn’t want Adora to feel that way, ever again.

Least of all with her.)

Adora blows out a sigh. “I… I have this feeling. It’s _stupid_ , we… I mean it’s _over_ , we won. Etheria is free at last, and our friends—the people of Etheria—they’re… they’re _happy_ , and you…” She smiles through the tears like she can’t believe it still, like it's the one aspect of their reality that's hardest to grasp. “You’re _here_.” Then, a shadow flickering across her face: “But when I broke the sword, I didn’t… I didn’t know who I was without She-Ra. What my purpose was supposed to be if I couldn’t help my friends, if I couldn’t fight the Horde, if I couldn’t fight…”

She trails off, looks into Catra’s eyes, and Catra smiles knowingly.

“If you couldn’t fight me.” She reaches for her hand, takes it in her own. Runs her thumb up and down Adora’s. “You don’t have to fight anymore. It’s over, Adora, it’s—”

But she stops herself, suddenly aware of the new stream of tears beading in ice blue eyes.

Adora nods, forces out a chuckle.

“Yeah. She-Ra is with me now. It wasn’t the sword, it wasn’t—” She draws a ragged breath, chest heaving with sobs. “And Mara _said_ , she—she _said_ —” She tries to soldier through, to power through this sentence even if it means her ribcage will crack open in the process. But then: “I just… I don’t _understand_.” She stumbles back against the wall, a trail of tears soiling her cheeks.

Slowly, she slides down to the floor. Catra mirrors her in silence; sits down hugging her knees.

“I didn’t feel like I thought it would,” Catra tells her somberly. Her gaze is anywhere but near Adora now, fixed on the window, on Melog staring back at her in complicit silence. “We were so close to winning, to defeating you guys that I could feel it on my fingertips. I could taste the victory, taste the blood on my tongue. But it didn’t feel like I thought it would.” She makes a point of looking into Adora’s red-rimmed eyes, and, “This doesn’t have to feel like you thought it would feel either.”

Lips quivering, Adora crashes into Catra's chest, whose arms circle around her at once. “It’s over,” Adora says, voice strangled. “It’s really over.”

“Adora,” Catra whispers, too aware of how the syllabes roll down her tongue in a familiar yet completely newfound, rapturous way. “You’re allowed to be sad.”

“It’s over.”

“I know.”

“It’s really over.”

“It’s okay. Everyone’s safe. You’re safe, Adora.” She tightens her arms around her. “You’re home.”

She nods between sobs, hands clenching around the fabric of Catra’s soaked clothes. After padding from the other side of the room, Melog bunts his head against Adora's forearm before collapsing by her side, and Adora cries until the sky is at its darkest shade of blue and her throat has gone raw. Somewhere along the way, her head ends up on Catra’s lap, blonde hair clinging to her face. Catra brushes it off, tucks it behind her ear.

Neither of them know how long they stay like that. Neither of them really care. All they know is what it feels like—an interlude like so many that came before, in the dark and between the walls of the Horde. Only this is a borrowed moment within the promise of a feasible future, something they had never dared to hope for in the past.

Slowly, Adora's breathing evens out, until the rise and fall of her chest is synched with Catra’s and all that is left to be heard is the beat of their hearts as they throb against their ribs.

“Do you want to go back to the Fright Zone?” Adora asks after a while, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Catra wonders how she managed to make it through such prolonged stretches of time without hearing the ring of Adora’s voice. “I heard you talking to Scorpia.”

“You did?”

She chuckles. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t keep an eye on you, did you? Needless to say, you have a tendency to disappear.”

“ _I_ have a tendency to disappear?” Catra echoes, lacking almost all the bite and venom it would’ve been traced with before. “That’s kinda rich.”

Adora chuckles again before going quiet for another moment. “You didn’t answer my question,” she tries again. “Do you? Want to go back? Because if you do, if that’s where you want to be—“

“This is your home.” Catra gives a small shrug. “Far better than the Fright Zone, than those memories of the Horde, of… our lives back then.”

Loosening herself from Catra’s grip, Adora straightens up, eyes roaming over the moonlit room. Melog stands in order to mirror her stance.

“I didn’t know how to sleep without you by my side,” Adora tells her. “Back when I first got here. I just wasn’t used to it.”

Catra looks down, smiles weakly. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“I don’t ever want to have to get used to it again,” Adora says. She bites her bottom lip, teeth digging into chapped skin, and, “Alright,” she concludes, wiping at her face one last time and raking a hand through disheveled, blonde hair. She turns to face Catra, and when she grins her eyes glisten with a few unshed tears.

“How do I look?”

“Heaven-sent,” Catra blurts out, lips parting once she _realizes_.

She can feel her face flushing red. Unable to help herself, Adora blushes, too.

“Stop,” she tries, chuckling. “I want you to ask me again.”

Catra blinks once. Twice. “What?”

“Come on. Ask me again.”

“I…” Catra swallows, leaps: “What do you want, Adora?”

“I want to be happy,” she says. “I want you to be happy. And I want us to finally have a chance at being happy, _together_ .” She pauses for a beat. Two beats, three. Then: “You’re right. This _is_ my home,” she admits. “But you are, too. You always were.” She reaches up to cup the side of Catra’s face, who leans into the touch at once. “So leave my side again and I _will_ hunt you down. I can do that now. I got all the time in the world.”

“I’m here,” Catra says. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

Adora beams, one of many moons orbiting around Etheria dancing in her eyes. “Good. Neither am I.”

And it sounds a lot like _I promise_.

She’s woken up a few hours later by the sun shining directly on the side of their faces, the patch of light so strong she has to rub at her eyelids to chase away the colorful blotches flickering in front of her.

Carefully—and _utterly_ reluctantly—Catra untangles herself from under a half-asleep, mumbling Adora, then swings her legs over the bed to sit up on the edge.

Arms stretching towards the ceiling, she casts a quick glance toward Melog sleeping soundly by the window. She drops her gaze to her feet, presses her toes against the sliver of sun beneath, above—everywhere.

Listens in on the quiet—a different kind of quiet this time—until there’s movement behind her: a muffled grunt, a yawn, the shuffling of wrinkled sheets being kicked off.

Adora wraps her arms around Catra’s waist from behind, and, “Sleep well?” she asks, nuzzling into Catra’s neck.

“Never better.” She leans back against Adora’s collarbone, hands closing over hers. “You?”

“Me, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the angst i guess? but in my defense i'm a mess.
> 
> special thanks to shelbi and evie, and to nay and august (always). wouldn't have mad it without them.
> 
> come yell with me on twitter @ dinkleysblake


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